


Useless

by OptimisticEgbert



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cutting, Depression, F/F, F/M, I'll add the tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OptimisticEgbert/pseuds/OptimisticEgbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My mom has never cared for me. If I let the psychiatrist in me come out I would say that single fact is the basis for all of my problems happening now. Sexuality, mentality, hell if I'm perfectly honest I would say she's the reason I had scarred myself as a teen.</p>
<p>Now she's dead and life further proves that it's a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My mother never loved me.

Sure, she'd take care of me and provide for me. If I was lucky I'd get a kiss on the cheek and a 'See you later sweetie!' as she dropped me off for school. Never meant it though. I'm sure it was an empty reassurance, she didn't want to see me as much I wanted to see her.

She'd only ever say the word 'love' to me when she was shit faced and I had to pick her up off the kitchen floor. Love was taboo in our house. Most of the time she wasn't even talking to me. And I can't ever forget the thinly veiled threats of what she would do to me if she ever got a hold of her bottle again.

It used to scare the shit out of me, but now I realize that fear had never compared to the fear of dying unloved and unwanted. 

I never really noticed until I was thirteen and our school had a Valentine's day festival. The project was to get a parent/guardian to write you a love note and tape it to the outside of your locker. Some bullshit about 'knowing someone was there for you at all times'.

Well, when Valentine's day rolled around I had nothing to show for it. Well, I did have something. A shitty store bought Hallmark card that had 'Get Well Soon!' scratched out and in it's place written, 'Happy Valentine's Day!'.

If I wanted the grade I had to hang that disgrace on my locker.

I was constantly mocked for the remainder of the month until we took the cards down. For more than a month I refused to talk to my mother all though I doubt she minded, or even noticed.

That was ten years ago and in that span of time I happily let my connection with my mother die off by separating myself as much as I could from her. I moved in with my brother as soon as I turned eighteen and I kept all conversation with her as short as possible.

Now I'm standing in my nicest black clothes at my mother's funereal. Sadly enough it wasn't raining like how I always imagined it would.

My closest friends, Jade, John, and Dave surrounded me. Jade was crying uncontrollably, easily matching the others of my family that crowded the casket. John was looking down trying to avoid eye contact and apologizing for my loss every five seconds.

They barely even knew her. I'm jealous of that fact. I'm jealous, bitter, and angry over the only reason that I can't cry at my own mom's funereal is that I knew her too well.

The weird thing about death is, that after that person's died they are instantly idolized. Cries of 'Oh she was such a good person!' and 'Why do the good die young!?' ring out and I can't help but think that if they really knew her and her habits, they would think differently.

Or not, it's not my problem what they think anymore.

As I watched my mother's fine, purple, casket be lowered into her grave, all I could feel was detachment. The women that raised me died today and I can't even shed a single goddamn tear.

Pondering more on what the fuck was wrong with me, Dave put a hand on my shoulder.

It felt warm, a strangely welcome and comforting feeling that contrasted with the mid winter weather. He did nothing else, just gripped my shoulder.

Dave barely knew my mom either, his dad took him and moved to another state soon after I was born. He must've mistook my silence for sadness.

My name is Rose Lalonde and my mom just died.

I'm heartless to not feel a thing.

I'm useless to not be crying.


	2. That Cute Bartender

“So Rose, I heard you're going out with John now?” Dave sat next to me at the downtown bar that was closest to where we lived. Funny thing about living in the city is that there always seems to be a good supply of seedy downtown bars.

I looked up from my shot of vodka that I've been trying to talk myself into drinking for the past ten minutes, “I don't know how you couldn't have heard.”

With the small four person group that we all maintain, there really wasn't any way not to know.

Even in the dimness of the bar, I could see movement behind his sunglasses that indicated rolling of eyes, “Wow how straightforward. I'm so glad I asked.”

John and me had been, in fact, going out for about a week. A year after my mother's death. He had confessed his feelings and I decided that I felt the same way. Or I would in time. Our relationship hadn't really grown past holding hands and not very sloppy make-out sessions.

But he made me happy. Well that fact was debatable, but he definitely made me happier than before.

Ignoring my brother's sarcasm I finally willed myself into drinking the shot. It went down hard and burnt my throat. I didn't mind though, after the initial shock, it was just how I liked it.

“So what did you bring me here for?” I asked, shifting in my bar seat to face him.

He put on a face of mock offense, “So I can't just take my sister out to bar to get drunk? Is that what you're saying?”

Trying to deny what the implications of that sentence could mean out of context, I said, “Dave seriously. There was no other reason why you'd pull me out of the apartment at this time of night?” It was at least a quarter past midnight and I think I'd be much happier spending the night in bed.

“Yes there is actually. I wanted to get you out of the house. It's probably been forever since you've last seen sunlight. Honestly I don't know how you and John even seen each other with you being all cooped up.”

Before I could defend my perfectly normal recluse ways he jumped down from his seat, “ I gotta go take a piss, be right back.” He walked away but stopped mid step, “Can you fill that drink up for me, sis?”

I nodded and he went away to go take care of whatever. I didn't really want to think about my brother pissing right now. Or anytime actually. There have been way too many allusions to incest for one night.

Grabbing his mug I signaled towards the bartender, “Hey...” I stopped before I started.

The bartender in front of me was the most stunning person I've seen to date.

First thing I noticed was her height, she was tall. Probably even taller than Dave (for a second I considered the silly notion of getting them to stand back to back) Then I saw her hair. Jet black, cut short, and it looked really soft. I wanted to touch it which was strange since I've never felt the urge to touch strangers (Excluding Batman) before.

She adjusted her black vest and bowtie. Strange, because as far as I know there's no outfit for the bartenders here.

God, she looks good in that...I began to wonder how she looks without it when she clears her throat. I blush because I finally realized that I've been staring like a loon this whole time without saying anything.

“What is it that you request?” She says and I nearly dropped. Her voice was magnificent, the way she pronounced every word so clearly and coolly. It sounded faintly exotic and I began to wonder where she might be from.

Gathering myself up again, I speak, “C-can you fill this back up?”

I stumbled on the first word and prayed that she didn't notice, “Right away Miss.”

She moves to the other end of the bar to where they kept all the alcohol and I kind of wish that instead of filling Dave's drink that she'd talk a little more. Well, at least I get a good view of her walking away...

No! I've never acted like this. Verbally I reminded myself under my breath that I have a boyfriend and that I am are most definitely not gay.

Then she comes back with Dave's mug in hand and I started to pull out my wallet when she stopped me, “No, that is not necessary.”

I tilted my head in what I hope is a questioning manner because I'm not sure if I can speak without fucking up, “It will be on me. What kind of person would I be if I let such a pretty girl pay for a drink that is not even hers?”

If it were not impossible my heart would've done every cliché thing possible, ranging from exploding to melting, but since it's not I just sat there looking like a complete idiot, further cementing myself into an embarrassing hell.

Holy shit, I think I might be gay.

“Back.” Is Dave's only word as he sits back down next to me, shocking me out of my...shock?

All I can say is, “Hey.”, and continue to take nervous glances up at the bartender.

Unfortunately Dave notices and extends a hand out to her, “Sup' I'm Dave Strider.”

At first she looks at the hand oddly but then, deciding it's not laced with anthrax, shakes it, “I am Kanaya Maryam, nice to meet you.”

Wow her name...It was so exotic, yet it fit so well.

Then she turned to me and smiled, “May I ask what yours is?”

Woah her smile...It was endearing and it showed all of her teeth (which seemed to be pointed rather sharply at the canines). Do you know what they mean when they say 'xer smile was bright as the sun itself'? Me neither, but this must come pretty damn close.

“Um hello?” Kanaya said, snapping me back to attention.

“I'm Rose Lalonde, nice to meet you too.” I rushed the last part. Oh how stupid I must've looked! Staring at her mouth like that. What a dumbass.

Still she just smiled, “What a beautiful name.” Then chuckled at my bewildered expression. My name is the basic of all fucking names, how could one so interesting, find that beautiful?

I think I'm gonna faint...

I shake Dave's shoulder, “Dave I'm starting to get sick, I'm gonna go back home.”

He looked at me funny, “Already? You've literally just started drinking.”

I hopped off the bar stool and nodded to Kanaya, “It was wonderful meeting you Kanaya.”

As I hurriedly walked out the door I heard a faint 'good-bye' after me. I didn't turn to look back. Also there might have been a slight texan accent muttering 'women' and then sighing, but I'm not too sure.

Really I was fine, I just needed some time alone to think about some things I didn't think I'd ever need to think about.


End file.
